I am disgusting.
I am horrible, I am worthless, I am a vile, ugly, fat and pathetic failure. I do not deserve to live. I do not deserve to eat. God forbid do I deserve "help" when I'm not even sick in the first place. How can I be? I'm huge.
I can't possibly see the nurse tomorrow, or Ms G, not when I know they'll be laughing inside at the squishy fat that suffocates the lies inside my rib cage. If they weigh me they'll tell me I'm "healthy" - fat. They are such nice people and I can't possibly burden them with my attention seeking false bullshit, or so my head tells me anyway. I'm just a burden. I don't deserve to live. Here's hoping I'll miraculously die in my sleep.
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learning to feel
No FicciónThis is not a happy story, or in fact is it a story at all. This is my diary, an amalgamation of my thoughts, of my dreams and my demons, of my delusions and disorders, of my struggles and successes. This is what happens when I try to confront what...
